something beautiful through the eyes of another
by mixedbreedvibes
Summary: Santana and Brittany's love through the eyes of their daughter.
1. Chapter 1: Stranger Things Have Happened

The day I was born is fuzzy to me. Obviously, what newborn remembers what happened the exact moment they were released from their mother's stomach and brought out into the world? Despite the answer to this obvious question, there is something significant I remember about this day. April 15th, several years ago.

I was crying and a hot mess, covered in gunk from Mama's insides (gross) and I know this because I was shown the birth video on my fifteenth birthday. Not by choice, obviously, but you guys have always been so persistent, and assured me it was something beautiful to see. Not that I saw much, since I spent most of the time hiding my face in Mom's shoulder while both of you watched with huge smiles on your faces. I didn't get what the whole craze was about watching something like that, but you guys told me I'd understand when I was a mother.

Anyway, back to the story. I'm not sure if my conscious made this up somewhere along the way, because I know it's pretty impossible for me to remember something that happened only a few minutes after I was born, but stranger things have happened.

I think the first thing I can remember seeing, whether it was that day or many days later, were these gorgeous bright blue eyes. I've always been fascinated with your eyes, Mom, and there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thankful that I have them too. They always soothed me when I was scared, or upset, or crying just because (I still do that from time to time). You would just hold me and stare into my eyes for an indefinite period of time, and I would calm. Mama always jokes about you being some kind of wizard or something, since the only thing you had to do to calm me down was look me in the eye. Maybe it is wizardry or witchcraft, who knows. Stranger things have happened.

But Mom's eyes weren't the only trick to keep me calm, Mama, so don't think I'm leaving you out.

Like I said before, whether it was that day or many days later, I remember hearing this mind blowing sound that vibrated against my ears when I was rested against your chest or my face was nuzzled securely in your neck. Whether you were feeding me, or holding me just because, I remember hearing, _feeling_ your amazing voice when you would sing to me. God, your voice has always been beautiful, Mama, but everything was intensified during those first few months after I was born, so I felt like the experience was all the more amazing.

I think the first solid memory I have of you two using your _superpowers_ to calm me was around the time I was one and a half. You were having your usual date night on Friday (you still have date nights on Friday) and I was being left in the care of Tia Quinn and Uncle Puck for the night. Now don't get me wrong, I love Quick as much as the next guy or girl, but I _was_ a clingy little one, and the idea of being away from you two for the night was an absolute no no from me.

Mama was already having trouble saying goodbye, and I know I wasn't helping because every time she tried to walk away I would grab a fistful of her hair and pull her back. I would even throw in a little ' _Mama I wuv you_ ' to guilt trip her into staying. A smart, devious baby I was. But you were smarter, Mom, and you knew what I was doing. Mama always had a weak spot for my pouting or crying, but you kept strong because, well, someone had to.

So while I threw a fit and cried into Mama's chest while gripping onto the fabric of her fancy dress like my life depended on it, you gently pried me away and handed me to Quinn. You saw the hesitation on Mama's face and assured her I would be fine, kissing away the handful of tears that fell down her cheeks from watching me have a breakdown (I have to admit, I did feel a little guilty after realizing I had made Mama cry, but that wasn't going to stop my tantrum).

You walked over to Quinn and smiled before crouching down (which I don't know how you managed to do in that skin tight dress but you did) and staring into my eyes. You knew how to play my little game and you knew I couldn't resist your eyes, but I wasn't going to lose without putting up a fight, no ma'am. I was stubborn and hard headed like Mama (still am), so I definitely was not about to give in so easily.

And that's where you came in, Mama. My cries were immediately silenced when I heard you singing the opening notes to Songbird (a sentimental song to anyone with the last name Lopez-Pierce) and I knew I was a goner. It was useless at that point to fight a losing battle. You both managed to leave a few minutes later after uttering words of love, and I didn't put up much of a fight.

So there you have it. You two using your magic against me from the very moment I came out of the womb, (probably, I obviously don't remember that clearly) and learning what my strengths and weaknesses were. But while you two were learning everything about me, I was learning everything about you as well. It didn't take me long to memorize what I could do to make Mama smile if she had a hard day at work, or make Mom laugh when you both had just finished an argument. You both took the time to learn what made me happy, so I took the time to learn the same for you. It only seemed fair, right?

I guess you could say it's highly unlikely for a newborn or a two year old to remember such small details so vividly from so long ago, but I don't find it that strange at all. Stranger things have happened.

* * *

Let me know what you think! Reviews are welcome :-)


	2. Chapter 2: The Two Types of Pain

The first time I had an actual _life altering_ injury (that may be a bit dramatic) was when I was four and dangerously clumsy.

As soon as I was able to toddle, I was falling into things left and right. And even before that, there were a few incidents where I would crawl directly into a table or wall— and then cry my lungs out because I was one for the over dramatics (I may have spent too much time with Aunt Rachel when I was younger. At least that's Mama's reasonings for my issues). My crying octave range was pretty impressive though, so it's no surprise that I definitely inherited Mama's strong vocals.

The day of my fourth birthday party I was bouncing off the walls from one too many pixie sticks given to me by Grandpa Pierce (which Mom gave him hell for later on) but in a surprisingly good mood. Because not only was I a sneaky kid, I was also an extremely whiny one, especially when I didn't get my way (I've grown out of this for the most part). I was an outgoing child, so I had a rather large amount of other children at my party, mostly from preschool or family related (which included Finchel's daughter, Samcedes' daughter, Quick's kids and Klaine's son). It worked out well since we were all around the same age, the oldest being Ariana Puckerman, who was seven.

As I look back on this now, I should've known that running solely on sugar was just setting myself up for disaster at such a young age. Knowing I was already terribly clumsy as it was, but the thought of adding several extra boosts of energy to that makes me cringe.

Everything was going smoothly. Our backyard was full of people, the vibes were happy and positive, the food was fantastic (courtesy of the best moms in the world) and everyone was having a great time. That is, of course, until Kamiah Evans had the brilliant idea of "birthday tag" and didn't waste any time to tag me first. Initially I pouted, (because what the hell did I do to deserve being tagged first) but was chasing after someone else in a matter of seconds. I was about six feet away from my next victim when I tripped (over my own feet) and landed, hard, face first against the concrete. Up until that point, I had never screamed so loudly in my life.

I don't know how you two did it, but you were both at my side within seconds. Mom carefully removed me from the sidewalk, and I felt her wince as she stared at my scratched up body. " _Shhh, shhh baby, it's okay. I know it hurts._ " She murmured and cradled me against her body as I continued to scream my heart out. I was in pain, okay? I couldn't help it.

It took a few moments before I realized I was being moved and initially panicked, before an equally familiar face I loved came into my eyesight and I relaxed. You kissed my forehead softly and stared sadly at me before informing Mom that you would handle it and to calm everyone else down. I wasn't screaming anymore, but I was still whimpering pathetically as you took me inside to the kitchen and set me on the island as you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for what you needed. You've always been so calm and sure of yourself in situations like these.

" _Sit still for Mama, okay baby girl?_ " You said to me while wetting a cotton ball with something out of a brown bottle I didn't recognize. I didn't respond until you gently pressed the cotton ball against my scraped knees and my screaming returned (because Jesus Christ, it hurt). " _I know, I know it hurts baby. But I have to do this to make you feel all better, okay?_ " You then allowed me to grab a fistful of your hair and yank it every time I felt pain. (I'm surprised you didn't go bald to be honest. I had a ridiculously strong grip for a four year old).

After what seemed like several excruciating hours, you carefully placed these awesome rainbow colored band aids over my skinned knees, elbows and forehead. You peppered light kisses over each and every one of them before pulling back and smiling brightly at me. I remember sniffling miserably and reaching for you, wanting nothing more than to be held in the comfort of my Mama's arms. You of course had complied and carefully lifted me, wrapping your strong arms around my waist and under my butt, holding me securely against you. I rested my head on your shoulder and wrapped my arms tightly around your neck as you murmured " _I love you so much, baby girl,_ " against my cheek before carrying me back to the party. Mom had immediately smiled at the sight of both of us and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips before you passed me over to her. She had pouted at my sad face and ghosted her fingers over my sore spots before kissing my cheek and offering me a slice of cake. I was fine after that.

* * *

It wasn't until many years later that I was faced with the horrible realization that emotional pain was much worse than physical pain.

* * *

When I was fourteen, I realized for the first time that being hurt emotionally was a thing. Now of course I had had my feelings hurt before, of course I had. I grew up with two moms, which despite it being the twenty-first century was still a shock to some people, and unfortunately had set me up for conflict. Don't think I didn't notice the whispers of other mothers when both of you would drop me off at preschool, or show up together hand-in-hand for parent-teacher conferences years later because I did. But the thing was, I didn't care. Because I was raised a certain way, the best way I would think, and I was taught to either ignore or politely correct the ignorance of others. Most of the time I chose to ignore it, though. It seemed easier for me. Until the day before eighth grade graduation.

The day before eighth grade graduation was a warm and sunny Thursday and summer break was merely hours away, which meant school was basically over already. None of our teachers had lesson plans set for the day, so it was a free day spent outside. My two best friends and I decided to chat under one of the large oak trees in the front lawn rather than participate in a game of frisbee or kick ball, so that's what we did. I remember we were deep into a debate on whether Justin Bieber should keep his hair long or get it chopped off when Grant Weedon and his three other friends approached us.

Grant and I had never gotten along. He disliked me and I disliked him _very much,_ so we chose to ignore each other at all costs. I preferred to keep it that way. So you can imagine my confusion when he chose to interrupt mine and my friends' conversation in request to speak with me privately. I remember how I had kept a stoic face and politely declined his request before going back to our pointless conversation over Justin Bieber's hair. But then had Grant interrupted again, and one of his larger friends grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me to my feet.

" _Listen, I just wanted to make something clear with Sof real quick. There's no need for drama._ " Grant had said when Madison, one of my friends threatened to get our teacher. He then proceeded to ask me short questions with equally short answers like how my day was and if I was ready for high school. But just as I was beginning to relax and let my guard down a bit, he reminded me why I had hated him so much in the first place. " _A lot of us here would appreciate if you told your moms to stay away from school functions._ " Grant had told me, referring to the high school pep rally we attended the day before. " _I'm sure you've noticed that most of us are Christians here, and we don't appreciate them throwing their sin in our faces. Actually just tell them this- dykes aren't welcome here and neither are you._ " Everything that happened after that was a blur. I can just barely remember the white hot anger coursing through my body, and then my fist burning after colliding with Grant's nose so forcefully. I was so angry I think I blacked out for a little bit.

The next thing I remember clearly was sitting a few feet away from Grant in the principal's office while we waited for our parents to get there. Grant was holding an ice pack to his nose, (which I had proudly broken, but didn't know at the time) and I was holding my (sore) clenched fists at my sides, refusing to cry. Mom showed up before Grant's dad did, who arrived about five minutes later. A brief summary of the situation was explained to our parents and when Mrs. Cole was finished she asked for mine and Grant's side of the story. Shockingly Grant had kept his mouth shut, simply uttering that he had tripped and landed against me, saying it was an accident. Too angry and upset to tell what actually happened, I agreed and we were both sent home for the rest of the afternoon without further punishment.

You could tell how upset I was from my demeanor. My body was tense, I wouldn't look you in the eye or speak. You had sighed and looked at me sadly before buckling your seatbelt and driving us home. I asked you why you weren't going back to work and you told me I came before your job. Normally I would argue, but I had simply shrugged and accepted the answer. When we got home you offered to make me something for lunch but I had muttered something about not being hungry and went to my room, where I stayed for a good portion of the afternoon.

It wasn't until later that night that I revealed what had actually happened between Grant and I earlier that day. I had just gotten out of the shower and walked back into my room, where you and Mama were sitting on my bed waiting for my return. You both knew something was wrong, and whatever it was had taken a huge effect on my mood. It was rare that I avoided you guys, because I was such a mommy/mama's girl that I couldn't stay away from either of you for more than a couple of hours. I had gone nearly five hours without uttering a word to either of you, and I think that was the final straw.

Within the first five minutes of small talk, I snapped. It didn't take long before I was spilling anything and everything like word vomit, and Mama's arms were cradling me against her chest as I cried (the same way she would do when I was a baby). You both had tears in your eyes and I knew Grant's harsh words had affected you too, but I was too upset to feel bad about it and instead gripped onto Mama's shirt as she gently rocked us back and forth and sang softly into my hair. We stayed like this for a long time.

You smiled sadly at Mama before smoothing my hair out of my face and peppering kisses to every inch of skin you could reach. I would've laughed at your attempts if I wasn't so sad. But I will admit it made me feel better, both of your kisses have always made me feel better when I was upset. It took a little while, but eventually my cries had died down and the three of us cuddled together on my bed. You both held me tightly, knowing it was what I needed at the moment and continued to drop soft kisses against my forehead and into my hair. It was moments like these that made me realize why I love you guys so much.

It took me awhile before I was able to convince Mama to keep this information between the three of us. She was so persistent on informing the principal and having Grant punished, but I wasn't really concerned about it, and I knew he wouldn't be in much trouble since the school year was over. Making a huge ordeal over something that was likely to happen again was pointless to me.

After both her and mom had made me promise that I would tell them if something like that were to happen again, Mama agreed to let it go. I was relieved.

As it turns out, I wasn't wrong about this happening again. Homophobia wasn't huge in high school, but it was still there. Though luckily I was raised by two strong women and I knew how to handle a situation when it took a wrong turn. There were only a handful of times when an argument between me and someone else got heated where someone had to step in and break it up. I never laid my hands on someone else again, which they should thank God for because I think we're all aware of what I'm capable of doing to someone who disrespects my family.

The two types of pain that have affected me the most are physical and emotional. I've had my fair share of bruises, cuts, and broken bones– but I've also had my equally fair share of bullying, phobias and broken hearts. But I don't regret any of them for a second. They've only made me stronger.


End file.
